The Fallen
by FairyRingsandWings
Summary: Angels and demons were never meant to fall in love. Alternate Universe where Carol is an angel and Yon-Rogg a demon.
1. The Hunt

Golden feathers fell around her, their heavenly glow fading to a dull, lifeless grey as they glided to the forest floor. Carol kneeled upon a bed of them, basked in a halo of light. She watched breathlessly as they changed, her heart aching almost as painfully as the fresh and bloody wounds on her back. With trembling fingers she reached out, scooping up a handful of the feathers. They weren't sleek, smooth and beautiful. Now they were bristly, dusty with ash and dirt, the barbs bent and crocked.

As her first tears shed, the forest shuddered. The wind wailed the suppressed cry that was clawing its way up her throat, the cry she was chocking to hold back. The baren trees branches rattled like bones. What little leaves there were scattered through the air, glinting like red wisps through the dark trees. When the last golden feather landed before her, the light shining through the dark sky finally closed, plunging her into darkness. The golden feather withered to grey. With a final breeze, the feathers around her were whisked away, turning to dust in the air.

Carol let out a heart-wrenching sob, her arms wrapping around herself tightly. She stared up at the sky, tears racing down her cheeks.

Her wings were gone.

She would never fly again.

* * *

There was much that humans could not see, magic and wonder all around them and yet it was invisible. Once they had not been blind, but as millennias passed, so did the humans desire to believe. Their third eye closed, shielding them - perhaps mercifully - from what was truly there.

They couldn't see the ghosts of their loved ones hovering over them as they wept over their graves. The irritable brownies huffing on their window sills waiting for offerings of milk that would never come. The fairies tending to the gardens or playing in the woods. The demons whispering over their shoulder, luring them to wickedness. The reapers with their shinning sythes waiting nearby for their inevitable demise. Fairies, spirits, monsters, angels, demons. Creatures which had such powerful impacts on their lives and they were blind to it.

It was for this precise reason that none of the humans walking down Haxon Avenue could see the building across from where Carol stood, with the glowing neon sign reading 'Oblivion'. To humans, it appeared there was nothing there at all, just a vacant space in their city where once a small bakers store had stood before it mysteriously burned down, as many listed buildings have an unfortunate habit of doing. It was in the human's best interest to be oblivious to the presence of the bar, it was not a place they would fair well.

Oblivion was a bar for supernatural creatures to gather, a place to sing their hypnotic hymns, dance their anicent frolics, whispers secrets unheard of by mortals and indulge in the company of other twisted creatures that delighted in tormenting humans. All manners of sin flourished in those walls.

Carol straightened her shoulders and crossed the street, keeping her head high as she walked in.

There was no dress code here, all came in the garbs they chose. Some wore the more modest garments that humans favoured, others clung to the traditional clothes of their kind. Fairies with their flowy, lacy dresses and flowers in their hair. Witches, wizards and their ilk draped in their dark robes and pointed hats. Demons in their antique armour, their faces painted with blood. Carol chose to dress more discreetly and comfortably. She wore a red leather jacket, a light blue t-shirt, a black infinity scarf, black skinny jeans and combat boots.

No one spared her glance as she made her way around the flashing dance floor, through the crowds lurking by the booths and standing stalls, and over to the bar. The bartender was a low-grade demon, with pointed ears, pinkish skin and unsettling black eyes. He ceased washing a cup and placed his hands on the table, leaning close. He spoke loudly to be heard over the raving music.

"Your kind aren't welcome here, Angel," he said, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head. "Sorry, ex-Angel."

"And that is exactly why I am welcome here," Carol said with a smile she did not feel. The remainder of her status stung. "Where else can a fallen angel get a drink?"

"If it were a drink you wanted you would have ordered by now," the bartender replied. "What do you want?"

"I'm looking for someone and a little pixie told me that you could help."

"Give me a name and if they're not a rare paying customer, I'll think about helping you. For a price of course."

"Yon-Rogg," Carol replied, proud that she was able to hold back the venom that seeped onto her tongue.

"What is he?"

"It's better if you don't know."

"For me or you?"

"You." Her tone was light, but there was a clear warning in it. The demon was wise enough not to press on for curiosities sake. Carol reached into her jacket and took out a long, velvet container. She pushed it forward. "Payment upfront and I expect your full discretion. No unnecessary questions."

The demon slid the case toward him, subtly peeking inside. His face was basked in a golden glow before he quickly snapped the case shut. He glanced around warily, making sure no one else's interest had been peaked. Inside was a golden angel feather - one of her own that had fallen free from her wings, many years ago. It pained her to let it go, she had so few left to cherish, but they were the only currency she had. Angel feathers were highly sought after in the Devil's Market. They could be used for healing potions or an energy source, some wanting them solely to possess something of the heavens.

"Right this way, my lady," the demon said, suddenly perked with politeness.

Carol rolled her eyes and followed him to a back room. It was dimly lit and filled with shelves and crates, all filled with stock. In the midst of the clutter was a circular table, draped with a ragged purple tablecloth. The demon gestured for her to sit down then hurried over to a container overflowing with rolled-up scrolls.

"We can make this a lot quicker if you have at least a vague idea where he is. Do you know which plane he is on? The Earthly plane? The Lands of the Dead? The Underworld?" With a sneer, he added, "Heaven?"

"If I had the slightest notion were he was I wouldn't need you," Carol said dryly. She had never been able to find him, he always found her. It was why she was forced to find this locating demon.

The demon huffed and tossed aside the maps he was rummaging through. "Alright, we'll do this the old fashion way."

He brought over a basin of water and placed it on the table. He sliced his hand with a flick blade, orange blood dripping into the water. He mumbled an old spell in a tongue she did not understand - a demons language. After a few moments, the waters remained unchanged. He frowned, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

"I can't find him," the demon glanced up at her with concern. "Either that means Yon-Rogg is a very popular name, he's dead, or... he's extremely powerful. If its the last one then I'll need more than a name to find him."

Carol hesitated before untucking a vial tied around her neck. Inside was a blue liquid. "Would his blood do?"

"What creature has blue blood?" the demon asked, startled. His clawed fingers took the vial by the cord, looking at it with disgusted interest.

"Just do the location spell."

The demon looked unnerved but complied. He held the vial above the water, chanting the spell again. The waters began to ripple and change colour like the northern lights, an image taking shape within.

Carol felt her heart ache, her body tensing.

Yon-Rogg, as clear as day, within the waters.

"Handsome fellow, ain't he?" the bartender said slyly. "Wasn't just heaven you fell from, was it?"

Carol kept her face impassive, ignoring the demons jabs. It was just as painful as his earlier slice at her. Demons were skilled when it came to throwing biting remarks and this one, despite knowing nothing of her past, was particularly lucky with his quips.

The image in the waters zoomed out, revealing more of the scene. Yon-Rogg was standing on the ledge of a skyscraper, one in the middle of a city unlike any she had ever seen. It didn't look like any human city. There was something otherworldly about the structures, strange symbols like stars adoring them. There were two suns in the sky, setting in the distance and bathing the city in an amber hue. The light made Yon-Rogg look almost as angelic as the angels he despised.

Her breath hitched when she saw what he was holding in his hand, his fingers tenderly brushing the bristles. A golden feather. Her feather. Centuries later and he still had it. She wanted to reach into the waters and rip it from his undeserving hands.

The demons lecherous grin fell when he saw what he was dealing with.

"Dark blue wings... he's a... a-" he demon chair clattered to the floor as he stumbled out of it. He backed away from the water, as though he was fearful he could be seen by the golden eyes within.

"A dark angel," Carol finished for him with a shrug. "Where is he?"

"Are you mad? You had me looking for a bloody dark angel? Do you know what he'll do to me if he finds out I was searching for him? A bloody dark angel!"

"He'll be the least of your worries if you don't tell me where he is," Carol said threateningly, rising her feet.

"You can't do anything to me. It's against your rules. No angel will harm another living thing," the demon said smugly. "Even us demons. Just like you, we have a right to exist and carry out our duties."

Carol pulled out a dagger from her boot. It was made of silver, lined with iron, the handle intricately decorated with symbols that represented powerful spells. The demon could smell the magic from it and began backing away until his back was against the wall.

"You're bluffing," the demon choked out a laugh. "The rules-"

"For an angel to fall, we have to break the rules. Which one of many do you think I broke?" Carol said, twirling her dagger in her hand. "It'd be quicker to list the ones I didn't break."

"Why would you want to find a dark angel?" the demon asked, panicked as she drew closer. He was a low-level demon with no abilities other than locating lost things, he wouldn't stand a chance against her or the dagger. "What chance does a fallen angel have against something like that?"

"Doesn't matter what my chances are. If I don't try then we're all dead."

"What do you mean?" the demon whispered.

"I need to find him otherwise he and the other dark angels are going to bring about the apocalypse."

* * *

_Paris, France. 1345._

Hidden on the ledge of the bell tower of Notre Dame, an angel took refuge from the rain. Her knees were pulled into her chest, her arms wrapped around them. Her gown of shimmering white was soaked through, clinging to her skin. Her golden tresses fell to her waist in wet strands, partly covering her face. Far down below, she watched with hollow despair as the people suffered. Even through the walls of their homes she could feel their pain and hear their sorrows. Their prayers all begged for the same thing - a cure for the plague.

The Black Death had been devasting most of the world, wiping out millions. It was a horrible disease, painful and slow. She had tried to help as many as she could with her healing touch, but now her healing abilities had been bound. She was not to interfere with the natural order of the universe, the archangels had warned her. People fell ill, people died. That was the way it was. All an angel like her could do was watch over them, listen to their prayers, and protect them from the sinister promises of deceitful demons.

It was a point of heated disagreement between her and the higher angels. Carol was consistently being scolded and punished for intervening with the mortals in ways that she should not. But how could she deny helping when people needed her? It frustrated and angered her to no end.

The clouds rumbled and flashed, the cathedral casting a shadow over the small buildings below. People ran for shelter, pushing their carts under ledges of buildings and shutting their windows. The square below was soon void of life, nothing but muddy puddles and empty stalls.

Perched upon the cathedral walls, the grotesque gargoyles growled. Carol glanced towards them. Between each flash of lightening their shadows moved while their bodies remained stone and still. They were agitated, restless. Something had them spooked.

Carol rose to her feet, her back pushed up against the wall, her wings flattened. She looked below for any signs of demons or foul spirits, it was the only thing that could upset the guardians of the church. Most of the dark ones stayed away from holy and sacred grounds, the promise of melted flesh and seared bones enough to keep them far from the gargoyles watchful gaze.

Carol stood up on the ledge then swooped down, spreading her wings. She soared upwards, landing on the tilted wooden roof behind the two towers. The gargoyles grunting whispers warned her that something was here, something dark and unwelcome. With a rub of her right fingers, speckles of white light danced around her hand, her golden wings glittering with power. She crept along the roof, vigilant of her surroundings.

She could feel it now. An energy, dark and dangerous and prowling nearby. Whatever it was it had to be strong. Unholy creatures could not step foot in holy places without their bodies burning upon contact, such places were protected by divine light. She couldn't sence or hear any pain coming from the creature - wherever it was - which mean that it wasn't affected. It was a troubling thought. Why would any powerful demons come here?

Carol reached the top of the roof and looked towards the towers. Her heart jolted as lightning flashed. For a second, a winged shadow overtook hers on the tower walls, it's wings eclipsing her. The creature was behind her.

The gargoyles shrieked.

She spun around, sending a burst of heavily light blindly towards the trespasser. She heard the swoop of wings. Her attack missed.

Carol looked up, startled by what she found.

High above her, standing on the ledge of the spiral tower was a man. His hair was plastered to his face by the rain, his skin pale and dripping with droplets of water. He was dressed in a long black coat, a low cut black poet shirt visible underneath. The most striking thing about him was his wings, folded behind him. At first, Carol thought he was a fellow angel but he couldn't be. Angel wings were white, gold, black or brown, their feathers resembling that of an elongated swan feather. His wings were dark blue, the feathers similar to that of a crow, with a lighter shade of blue shining through.

Carol frowned, unsure what she was dealing with. He was the presence she had sensed. He had to be a demon, a powerful one to withstand the cathedrals protections.

"I mean you no harm," he said, his voice soothing and strong. He raised his hands in surrender.

"The gargoyles don't seem to agree," Carol yelled up to him.

Around them, though motionless they appeared, the stone monuments growled and hissed.

"You should leave," Carol said. "You're making them nervous."

Having the gargoyles upset was never good. The creatures seldom had to resort to it, but they would happily start tearing up the building they were meant to protect so they could have bricks to chuck at any threats. If the cathedral was to stay in tack he had to go. She didn't think the city would be happy about their newly constructed church being decimated by angry gargoyles.

"And if I don't want to?" He asked curiously.

Carol spread out her wings to their full span and took a step forward. "Then you and I will have a problem."

"Rather unfitting of an angel. Aren't you suppose to be pacifists?"

"There aren't any rules saying we can't defend ourselves."

"I wouldn't know, your list of rules are tedious even for me," the man drawled, leaning back against the spiral. Well, she wouldn't disagree there. "As I said, I don't intend to hurt you."

"And just who and what are you?" Carol asked.

"Yon-Rogg," he nodded his head politely. "And you?"

"Carol," she replied. "You didn't answer my second question. Are you a demon?"

"Of a sort," he said cryptically, shrugging one shoulder. "Why were you weeping?"

Carol tensed. If he had seen her crying then that meant he had been watching her, heaven only knows for how long for. When she had first landed on the cathedral, it had taken her a while to stop her tears. She had come here to seek sanctuary from the heavens, having just been stripped of her healing power and thoroughly scolded. She had been upset at her inability to help the humans anymore, wrathful at her elders for taking her power away and at their refusal to help those in need. Her healing touch would not be given back for a hundred years, any injury she sustained would have to heal naturally at the pace of a human.

It was a harsh punishment, one she felt they had given her to sway her from her other routine rule-breaking of picking fights with demons. When it came to demons tempting humans, angels were meant to act as a second conscious, encouraging the human to make the right choice and reject the demons. But Carol found it didn't always work. Knocking the demon out, however, was far more effective, though far more frowned upon. Angels were forbidden from fighting, even demons.

Carol glared at the man, feeling irritated that she hadn't detected him sooner.

"None of your business," she replied sharply.

Lightning flashed and the man vanished. Carol blinked, confused before she felt a presence behind her. She twirled around, her dress flaring out. He was standing a few feet away. From this close, she could see the colours of his eyes, golden like the harvest moon. He was handsome, in a rogueish kind of way.

"You're upset because of what is happening out there," he gestured to the city, glancing at it with bitterness in his eyes. "All this pain, all this suffering, you can feel it. The Black Death has wiped out millions and will wipe out millions more and there is nothing the mortals can do to stop it." He turned his attention back to her. "This isn't even the first disease to cause devastation nor will it be the last. Yet you stand by and do nothing?"

"I can't," Carol bit out. "Angels aren't allowed to interfere in the affairs of humans."

"And why not?"

It was a question Carol did not have a satisfactory answer for. She didn't understand the rule herself. What was the point in her powers if she couldn't use them? With a single touch, she could cure a person of any disease or injury, yet to do so would earn her a punishment - _had_ earned her a punishment.

"And what exactly are you doing to help?" Carol challenged, quirking an eyebrow. "Don't pretend you care about them."

"I do care," Yon-Rogg said with conviction, eyes shining brightly. "More than any angel does, that's for certain."

"What does that mean?"Carol asked, narrowing her eyes.

Before Yon-Rogg could ask, a chunk of stone skimmed past his head. Carol leapt out of its reach, her wings fanned out behind her. The gargoyles remained unmoving, but both Carol and Yon-Rogg were aware it was they who had cast the stone.

"I think I've out-stayed me welcome," Yon-Rogg conceded. "Perhaps we'll cross paths again, Carol."

"I hope not," Carol said with fake sweetness.

Yon-Rogg smirked, shaking his head. When the lightning lit up the sky in vibrant streaks, he vanished.

It was only later after consulting with her fellow guardian angels that she found out what he was.

A dark angel.


	2. Which Witch

_Scotland, Dunbar - 1587_

Angels had many powers. They could heal any wound with a touch of their hands, they could fly across the skies, they suffered no illness of man, were immune to father times withering passage and could summon the light of heaven to ward off evil. What many did not know was their ability to hide their wings and become human for a short period. They called it their human guise. An ability they had to use discreetly and with great care. It came with many risks, an angel wouldn't be able to access their powers nor would they be able to revert back to their angelic form until the next rising of the sun. They were mortal and could be hurt or killed during that time. It was when they were at their most vulnerable and so seldom did they use the power.

It was because of this irritable little clause that Carol found herself in a less than an ideal predicament. She was locked in an iron-barred cell, futilely trying to pick at the lock with a scrap of metal. Her hair fell over her face, getting in the way - she was sorely tempted to lop it all off - and her arms were bent at awkward angles as she tried to get a better grip of the padlock. She snarled when she sliced her hand with the piece of metal, nearly dropping it in the process.

"You're just a magnet for trouble, aren't you?"

Carol glanced up, finding the real trouble leaning on the wall across from her. Yon-Rogg, the man she had not seen since Paris in 1345. He was wearing a dark doublet with silver embroidery resembling stars, black breaches and boots. His wings were folded behind him, illuminated by the amber glow of the single lantern swaying on the wall. She was thankful there were no other prisoners in the neighbouring cells, they would write her off as mad when she started talking seemingly to thin air.

"You again," Carol said, returning her attention to the lock.

She kept a nonchalant air, not wanting this creature to know how nervous she was now that she knew what he was. A dark angel. The angels of the Underworld. No one knew where they came from or what their purpose was, only that they were powerful and held a hatred towards her kind. She felt vulnerable in this form, knowing there was little she could do if he decided to attack.

"Long time no see. What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't help notice the human with a startling resemblance to an angel I met once getting chased through town by an angry mob with torches and pitchforks." Yon-Rogg crossed his arms, watching her with amusement. "How did that happen?"

"An overreaction on the villagers part to a very reasonable action by me."

"You consider punching the town mayor a reasonable action?" Yon-Rogg asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Considering he accused me and several other women of being witches, yes, I think it was reasonable." Carol blew her hair from her face, glaring up at him. "Why did you ask if you already knew what happened? How long have you been lurking?"

"I wanted to hear your take on the situation. Interesting spin, I must say," Yon-Rogg said, hiding a smile. "And I wasn't lurking, I was observing."

"That's what all the stalkers say."

"Why are you in your human guise?" Yon-Rogg asked, not rising to her bait.

"Like you don't already know," Carol muttered.

She had been breaking the rules and wasn't happy to be caught by a demon. It didn't look good and if anyone else found out it could lead to all sorts of problems for her. Her elders would not be happy. She waited for a snide remark about it but Yon-Rogg surprised her when he gestured to the lock.

"Do you need some help there?"

"Nope, I got this," Carol said after a beat.

She focused all her attention on the lock. She grinned with she heard it click open. Carol pushed open the barred door and took a small bow. Yon-Rogg humoured her with a small round of applause.

"An angel that can pick a lock, that's unusual," Yon-Rogg commented.

"How else would I get back through the gates of heaven? They keep locking them whenever I'm due to come home, it's weird."

Yon-Rogg shook his head, suppressing a smile. "Can't imagine why anyone would want to lock you out."

"You've only known me for a few minutes, give it an hour or two."

He laughed and it was pleasant to hear, though she felt he was trying to hold it back. Carol moved by him, heading towards the door.

"Now if you excuse me, I've got a jailbreak to complete."

* * *

"Not a word," Carol grit out.

Carol and Yon-Rogg were walking down a dirt path through the forest. The plain brown peasant gown she was wearing was caked in rotten food, dirt and stuff she didn't want to think about. Her hair was stiff and riddled with twigs and pieces of rubbish. Her face and hands were stained with marks. She looked awful and smelt worse.

Getting out of the building hadn't proved easy. Guards had spotted her and had given chase. To escape her only option had been to fling herself down a garbage shoot that ended in a waste cart.

The worst part of clambering out of it was finding Yon-Rogg standing across from her, straining to contain a laugh, his eyes alight with mirth. She had grit her teeth, humiliation demanding she lash out at him for bearing witness to her folly.

The beast inside her had calmed when he said nothing and offered her his hand, helping her out. She had stumbled into his arms, her hands landing on his chest for purchase. She froze, embarrassed to find herself intimately close to a demon and stranger. She swallowed her pride and glanced up. For a moment she had found herself caught in his gaze. Eyes of gold, ringed with lighter shades. Yon-Rogg seemed equally entranced by something about her, though whether it was grime clinging to her, the awkward shock of their closeness or something else, she would never know.

The guards came running around the corner shouting after her, breaking the spell they were under. Carol had been forced to run down the alleyways, making her way to the village edge were the forest lay.

They had been walking in silence for a while now, but she could tell he was itching to say something about the whole fiasco. Instead, he asked her where she was going.

"I have to meet someone at Quibbles Creak."

"The human you saved from being hanged?"

Carol refused to look at him. She had been wondering how much he had seen before he made his presence known. Apparently, he had seen everything.

_So much for keeping a low profile,_ Carol mused bitterly.

The past few weeks she had been watching over a young woman called Emily who had been struggling with the loss of her husband. He had died of influenza, as had several others within the village over the past few months. Although it was natural causes, some within the village were convinced their deaths were caused by malicious forces. That it was the work of witches. Across the country, there had been witch trails and now it had reached here. Emily had been accused of witchcraft as three of the village residents who died had close connections to her. She had been found guilty and would have hanged.

To save her, Carol had activated her human guise to try and convince the villagers of Emily's innocence, having failed to convince them with her angelic whispers. She hadn't expected it to work, hoping instead to give Emily a chance to run - which she had. The plan had backfired when the mayor began questioning who she was, how she had come to their village and why she was so certain that Emily was innocent. From there, things had escalated quickly.

"She was going to be hanged for being a witch," Carol said defensively.

"I know," Yon-Rogg said. "I'm not going to berate you if that's what you're worried about. I think you did the right thing."

"Really?"

"You're an angel, you're supposed to guide and protect. It's your nature. That woman would have died for nothing but hysteria. You saved her life. Why should you be scolded for that? It isn't right that you're waiting for the axe to drop for doing the right thing. More angels should be willing to go the lengths that you were." He looked thoughtful for a moment, giving her a sly smile."Though maybe using less... dramatic methods."

Carol said nothing. She wasn't sure if he genuinely supported her decision or was merely doing what demons did, pretending to agree with you while they spun a web to snare you.

They arrived at Quibbles Creak. Emily was waiting by the rocks, relief flooding her face when she saw Carol. She picked up the sides of her dress so she could run over and embrace her. Carol was startled by the hug but returned it with a hesitant smile.

"I'm so glad you're alright!" Emily sighed. "I hope it wasn't too much trouble getting here."

"Piece of cake," Carol grinned.

Yon-Rogg, unseen by Emily, snorted.

The barks of hounds made them look west. At the bottom of the hill, in the dimming daylight, they could see the flickering flames of torches approaching. The villagers were coming.

"Oh no, what will we do?" Emily asked, panicked as she clutched Carol's hand.

"Come on," Carol whispered.

She pulled the girl further into the forest. They ran as fast as their feet could go, the enclosing shouts and barks pushing them to go faster. Twigs snapped under their feet, upturned branches almost tripping they shoved aside leaves and shrubs. They hadn't been running long before Emily's steps began to falter.

"Carol! Carol!" Emily ground her feet into the dirt, halting them. "I can't go any further."

"We need to!"

"I can't!"

Carol ran a hand through her hair, it was slick with sweat, her face red. Both of them were out of breath and tired, Emily far more so than her. They needed a new plan, they couldn't keep running for much longer and the villagers were getting closer. Carol looked around desperately, spotting a shadow a few feet away behind the trees. She bit her lip, a dangerous idea taking root.

"Stay here," Carol said. "I'll be back in a moment."

Carol hurried towards the watching figure, ignoring Emily's confused cries as she disappeared into the growing darkness.

"You said you cared for humans. Was that true?"

"Yes," Yon-Rogg said, frowning. "Why?"

"You can help her. I won't have my powers back until the sun rises, I can't get her somewhere safe. But you can."

She waited for him to lecture her about the rules of not interfering with humans like this. She thought he might even try to bargain with her, to take advantage of the situation. He did neither.

"Where do you want me to take her?" he asked.

* * *

It was nightfall when Yon-Rogg returned. He found Carol climbing into a cave, far away from the village. While he had taken Emily somewhere safe, she had led the villagers away. It had taken her a while but she finally lost them. It was pitch black now, the only light coming from the crescent moon and twinkling stars. Carol shivered as Yon-Rogg landed beside her, his wings stirring the leaves around them. She was freezing, her body trembling and lips turning blue. She looked towards the dark angel.

"Is Emily safe?"

"She's with family in Ireland," Yon-Rogg assured her. "And a firm believer in the divine now."

Carol wincing but nodded. That would be another rule broken. The supernatural community at large had decided not to make themselves known to humans. If humans could no longer see them and their influence without magical aid, then they would not be allowed to see them at all. They had to earn that right. She hadn't had a choice but to reveal the supernatural to Emily, it was the only way to save her.

Carol entered the cave, it was small, barely a few yards long dent in the mountain. A few stalactites dripped down from the ceiling like fangs, foliage and shrubbery dangling over the entrance, providing some shelter from the nippy autumn breeze. Carol sat down, legs pulled into her and arms wrapped around her, trying to conserve warmth. She had forgotten how frail humans bodies were. Angels didn't feel the cold.

"Thank you," Carol said begrudgingly. "For saving Emily."

Yon-Rogg nodded. He took off his doublet and knelt down before her, draping it over her wingless shoulders. Carol held her breath at his nearness, surprised by the tender gesture. Yon-Rogg fussed with the jacket for a bit, making sure it was wrapped around her shivering form.

"Anytime," he whispered, sitting down next to her.

"I wouldn't sit so close to me. I don't exactly smell the greatest," Carol said. "If I could get far away from me right now, I would."

She longed to head to the small brook she had seen a short distance away, so she could wash the filth from her clothes and body. If she hadn't been so cold she would have, but she had to be careful. As a human, she could very easily die of hypothermia.

"You don't smell that bad," Yon-Rogg tried to assure her.

"Liar," Carol snorted. "The only reason other demons haven't tried to kill me yet is the stench is keeping them at bay. Who knew garbage and sweat were such great demon deterrents?"

"It's a little bad," Yon-Rogg conceded.

"Why are you hanging around then?" Carol asked.

"Can't one immortal spend time with another without there being a motive?" Yon-Rogg gave her an amused smile. "Besides, your day is much more exciting than anything I would have been doing."

"And what would you be doing?" Carol asked innocently. She was curious about what dark angels got up to, everyone was. They were an enigma.

Yon-Rogg looked at her seriously, all humour and lightness gone. "Trying to take over the world."

Carol hesitated before frowning. "Is that your attempt at a joke?"

"I take it you didn't find it amusing?"

"It needs a little work."

"Well, I'm sure you can give me some pointers." Yon-Rogg looked at her then with a tilt of his head. "Why did you break the rules to save her? The archangels will find out eventually, you created too much of a scene for them not to."

"Then I'll get punished," Carol shrugged. "I'm just doing what should be done."

"And how many rules do you think they'll let you break before they clip your wings?"

"They're not gonna clip them for breaking one rule."

"Breaking rules seems to be a part of your daily routine."

Carol gave him a funny look. "And how would you know that?"

"Your reputation proceeds you," Yon-Rogg said with a teasing smile. "The rebellious angel. Captain of trouble. Heavens Fury, as your known in the Underworld by the many demons you've throttled."

Carol hummed thoughtfully, pleased by the titles.

She yawned, the excitement of the day finally catching up to her human body. She hadn't realised how exhausted she was.

"You can go to sleep if you want," Yon-Rogg said. "I'll keep an eye out for wolves or angry mobs."

Carol leaned her head back against the rough cave wall, closing her eyes.

"Those are the last of my worries considering there's a demon sitting right next to me," Carol mused tiredly.

"I promise you that I won't harm you," Yon-Rogg swore.

"Why?" Carol said with a yawn.

After all, they were natural enemies, angels and demons. This strange acquaintanceship that had settled over them shouldn't be.

Whatever Yon-Rogg's reply was - if he did give one - Carol did not hear it. She had drifted off, everything around her fading away. She was vaguely aware of something moving around her. Had she been awake she would have known that Yon-Rogg had wrapped an arm around her and drew her close so she could lean against his shoulder, his ring-wing enclosing around her, shielding her from the cold.


	3. The Storm

_Present Day - Gifford Pinchot National Forest, USA_

Hala, the realm the dark angels had claimed as their own. It was a place very few had travelled to and even less had returned from. No one was even sure what it looked like. That was were Yon-Rogg was. No one knew how the dark angels got there, but the only way for others to do so was to activate a transportation portal.

With green chalk, Carol drew a large eight-pointed star on the ground. She then drew two-ringed circles around it, filling them with various other symbols that looked like broken stars. She had decided to build the portal in a forest far from any human settlement. She didn't want any unsuspecting humans to wander upon it. Curious pixies - winged creatures that resembled hand-sized humans with pointed ears and blueish skin - watched from the branches and shrubbery. They whispered their cautions, their translucent wings fluttering frantically.

Carol paid them no mind as she finished her drawing. She dusted her hands then rummaged through the rucksack she had brought. It was filled with weapons, potions, food, bottles of water, medicines, bandages and useful knick-knacks she had collected.

Despite her heavy itinerary, she felt woefully underprepared. She had no powers. No wings. No backup. She was going into uncharted enemy territory. And as a fallen, she could die now. Her chances of pulling this off were slim, but she had to try. If she didn't then the Dark Angels would succeed in overthrowing the heavens. No angel would be left alive. The humans would suffer. The demons - loathe them though she did - would perish. The very order and balance of nature would forever be changed.

And it would all be _her_ fault.

If she hadn't let Yon-Rogg deceive her... if she hadn't trusted him...

Carol clenched her eyes shut, battling against the onslaught of emotions he stirred inside of her. Hate, hurt, anger, love. A torrent of unkind emotions that would not give her a moment's peace.

Carol found what she was looking for. It was a bracelet made of a black feather and several blue beads that shimmered with stardust. It had been a gift from Yon-Rogg, made from one of his feathers. It had been their version of an engagement ring, something to act as a token of their affections. Although angels did not marry, she and Yon had liked the sentiment of it. The idea of pledging oneself to another.

Carol gripped it tightly.

She wished she could go back in time and undo the day they began. The day she had allowed friendship to take seed between them. From that day he had become so rooted in her heart that no amount of clawing would ever remove him. He was a stubborn weed she could not kill.

She hated him as much as she loved him.

* * *

_The Atlantic Ocean -1602_

Salt from the sea air tinged her lips and clung to her skin. Strands of gold which had fallen from her bun glided about her face in the breeze, her skirts ruffling against her legs. Carol watched the foamy waves idly, her fingers drumming off the ship's railings. She was bored, fed up with ship duty she had been assigned to. It was a miserable responsibility. It didn't help that she wasn't the biggest lover of the sea nor the ships that sailed it. She couldn't even go for a quick fly in the sky. It was too easy to lose track of the ship she was tasked with guarding.

"You haven't been avoiding me, have you?"

Carol glanced to her side, noticing Yon-Rog had appeared, his arms resting on the bannister. She had to admit, seventeenth-century clothing suited him. He was wearing a black poet shirt and light grey vest with star studs. His hair was longer than the last time she had seen him, reaching his shoulders and tied back into a ponytail. There was some light stubble growing on his cheeks and around his mouth. It gave him a bit of a roguish pirate vibe that she couldn't help but like.

"What makes you say that?" Carol asked.

"I haven't seen you since Dunbar."

"I've been... busy. In heaven," she said slowly. The truth was she had been grounded, the flight taken from her wings to prevent her from leaving heaven. It had been her punishment for interfering and saving Emily. Her only saving grace was that Yon-Rogg's involvement had remained unknown. "Were you looking for me?"

"No, I was beginning to wonder if another angry mob managed to take you out."

Carol rolled her eyes, her cheeks blushing at the reminder of the incident.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"Ship duty. The voyage will be long and rife with hardships, the people onboard need guidance and-"

"Protection," Yon said it was enough mockery to let her know what he thought of an angel's protection. "If you protected them how you wanted to most will survive this journey. Protect them as your kinds rules dictate then most will perish. There's an aura of death clinging to this ship."

"That could be a few things. The rats carrying various diseases below deck. The steadily dwindling food supplies. The Kraken that's been trailing this ship for the last twenty miles."

Yon-Rogg peered into the water, catching a glimpse of the titanic creature lurking far below. A glint of a yellow eye. The flash of a tentacle. Kraken's were nasty creatures, bigger than the largest of ships, with tentacles long enough to ensnare and sink them. The ship's figurehead - a beautiful, wooden mermaid with soulless black eyes - had warned her of its approach. It sang a song the humans could not hear, a desolate sorrowful hymn, pleading with the creature to stay away. Seldom did such pleas work.

"As long as you're here it won't strike," Yon-Rogg said. "At least until the storm arrives and capsizes the ship, then it'll eat everyone."

"Storm?" Carol blinked, looking out at the calm seas. "What storm?"

"It's headed this way from the East. It'll be here shortly."

"How can you tell?"

"Tell me where you really where the past few decades and I'll consider," when he saw her false look of confusion he rolled his eyes, giving her a dry look. "I'm a demon. I can tell when people lie, especially when they are as bad a liar as you."

"I'm not a bad liar," Carol scoffed, offended. Though should she be? Angels weren't meant to lie, it was against the virtue of being honest.

"So you did lie," Yon-Rogg said triumphantly.

Carol's mouth dropped open in protest but she bit her tongue, more humoured at being caught out than angry. "I was grounded. Happy?"

"Not in the slightest," Yon-Rogg said, his smile weaning. "What will you do now that you know there is a storm coming?"

"What can I do?" Carol said quietly. "I can't carry everyone to safety, even with your help. We're a days travel from land in all directions. All the crew can do is buckle down and... pray."

"And when praying fails you'll be there to help them to the afterlife."

Carol nodded, unable to speak the painful truth. Centuries of existence and it was a truth she still could not stomach or reconcile with. There were things in life that would happen no matter how hard she tried. Other times there would be nothing she could do but stand by helplessly as the inevitable occurred.

Carol moved from the railings and headed to the upper levels of the ship.

It did not take long for the Captain to arrive on deck, a telescope in hand. He scanned the horizons, stilling when he came to the East. He gasped and began shouting orders. Sure enough, there was a storm rising in the distance. The deck erupted with chaos as men poured outside, hurrying about their tasks, barking out instructions to each other. The sails were risen and tied to the masts. The canons were secured with extra rope. Anything not bolted down - cannon balls, barrels of water, rope, nets - were taken inside. It was a frenzy, the fear escalating as the sky darkened and the wind blew harder, the thunderous clouds steadily gaining on the ship.

Yon-Rogg placed a hand on Carol's arm, gesturing to the captain's cabin doors. There was a small ledge there where they could shelter under. Around them, fat raindrops splattered. They stood close together, their wings folded around their bodies to shield them from the wind and rain. Before long the ship was rocking violently, the wind and sea so loud barely anything else could be heard. Huge waves crashed on deck, knocking men down like skittles. The masts creaked under the wind's assault.

"They're not going to survive this storm," Carol shouted.

"They will," Yon-Rogg yelled back.

Carol looked at him in bewilderment. "How?"

"Just wait."

Carol bit her lip, watching as the men struggled to keep control of their ship. Below deck, she could hear the prayers of the passengers and feel their panic. Up above them, the sky was like a swirling vortex of black and grey. The eye of the storm.

Yon-Rogg raised his hand and with a snap of his fingers, there was calm. The rain stopped. The wind died down to a breeze. The waves calmed to a gentle lull. Patches of sunlight broke through the clouds. Carol shoved her wet locks aside, staring with her mouth open at the dramatic change.

"You... you can control the weather?" Carol gasped. "Can all dark angels do that?"

"Is this you gathering intel for the heavens?"

"Maybe. Don't pretend you aren't doing the same."

The men stumbled to their feet, looking around in amazement. They began cheering, their Captain shouting that the heavens had watched over them. Carol felt a swell of guilt, knowing that had not been true.

* * *

That night, under the gleaming moon, the crew and passengers threw a party to celebrate braving the storm. Lanterns were alight with flames, music strumming through the air as the musicians played their instrument. Though they could not hear it, the figurehead on the bow sang a sweet melody of joy. An area of the deck had been cleared for a dance floor, men and women dancing in merriment, while those on the side clapped in beat to the music. Men toasted their drinks towards the skies.

Carol sat on the railings of the ship, swinging her legs. Yon-Rogg was beside her, his shoulder brushing her as he leaned back against the bannister.

"They think angels saved them," Carol said quietly.

"One did. If you hadn't been here neither would I."

"So you admit you were looking for me," Carol's voice turned sly.

Yon-Rogg restrained a smile. Carefully, he said, "I... wouldn't have landed here had I not noticed a familiar face."

He pushed himself away from the railing, placing one hand on his chest and giving her a light bow. He offered her his gloved hand.

"Care for a dance?"

"You're not serious?" Carol said. The look on his face told her otherwise. "Wait, you are?"

"Why not? There are no rules saying we can't. Oh, is that why you don't want to?"

He looked at her, his eyes holding a challenge she could not ignore. She hopped down from the railing and took his hand, letting him lead her to an empty part of the dancefloor.

"I didn't take you for much of a dancer," Carol commented.

"Well, when there are beautiful partners to dance with, who can resist?"

Carol laughed and purposely stood on his toe. He winced, giving her a scowl. She smiled sweetly.

She placed a hand on his shoulder, the other holding his hand. Yon-Rogg gently rested his free hand against her waist. Carol couldn't help but be acutely aware of all the places he touched, it was very rare she was this close to anyone. They kept a respectable distance from their bodies, twirling around to the lively music. Neither of them knew how to dance as humans did, they merely moved their bodies as they wished, twirling in circles. Carol found herself enjoying it, perhaps a little too much. She contained her smile and looked away from Yon-Rogg, towards the dancing humans.

"Will the dark angels be angry with you for interfering with the humans?" Carol asked.

"No. We're not like the angels or the other demons. We don't believe that humans should be left to defend themselves. We have powers. We should use them to protect those too weak to defend themselves," Yon-Rogg explained. "Considering you're not saying anything and your history of rule-breaking, I'd wager you agree."

"The rules are there for a reason," it sounded lame to her own ears and held no conviction. She was defending the angel's ways as that was what she was supposed to do. "Without them, it would be chaos."

"I agree. We need rules to keep order but clearly if people are allowed to suffer and those with the powers to do something are punished for considering it, then something needs to change."

She did not like how much sense he was making or how much she agreed. It was something she had thought about often, something she was routinely punished for. She wanted to help people and she could but the heavens were holding her back. It wasn't right.

"Do you interfere with humans often?"

"As much as you do," Yon-Rogg said, smiling approvingly.

Carol's heart fluttered proudly then ached a little. No one ever praised her for breaking the rules to help the humans. That it was a demon to do so first was...

"I'm surprised your fellow demons haven't tried to stop you from interfering," Carol remarked.

"There's little they could do," Yon-Rogg said derisively. Again she wondered how powerful these demons were to have so little care of what their brethren thought.

Yon-Rogg turned his attention to her golden wings. "You're the only angel I've ever seen with golden wings."

"It's a rare wing colour."

"They're beautiful," Yon-Rogg said quietly, the words sounding like he hadn't meant to say them.

"Thank you," Carol lightly.

When his eyes returned to her she couldn't help but realise how close they had gotten, Yon-Rogg having pulled her closer. They weren't dancing now, their feet staying in the same place, bodies pressed together too closely to sway. Carol cleared her throat and looked away, moving her hand from his shoulder to his chest, gently pushing him away.

"I need to go," Yon-Rogg said, glancing up at the moon. "Can I see you again?"

Carol's heart thudded harder in her chest. It was a bad idea, a very bad idea. She shouldn't be engaging in any friendliness with a demon. It wasn't allowed and it was dangerous as demons were tricksters and master manipulators.

But there was something about Yon-Rogg that she liked. He was charming in a subtle way and she enjoyed his humour and rebuttals to hers. She enjoyed seeing him fight against his desire to laugh and found herself wanting to make him laugh without reserve. His opinions on the order of things made her feel validated and less alone in the decisions she had made. She knew she shouldn't trust him, but he had had ample opportunities now to attack her and he hadn't. He had also helped the humans.

She decided to take a risk, to be bold and adventurous. She was tired of being alone.

"Name a place and time."

* * *

_Present Day - Gifford Pinchot National Forest, USA_

Carol took out a purple vial that the locating demon had given her. She poured it over the bracelet, watching as it gleamed red. If the spell worked, then it should allow her to track down Yon once she was in his realm. All she had to do now was get there.

She stood in the centre of the star and chanted the ancient spell she had been given. The circle glowed blue before she was engulfed in light, vanishing from the circle.


	4. Snow Angels

_Venice, Italy - 1652_

Carol sat on the stairs leading to the altar, watching the occupants of the church. Her duty today was to listen to prayers and take them to heaven. Sunday mass had finished an hour ago, but people still lingered. There were some dotted about the pews, sitting or kneeling in silent prayer. Two nuns spoke in hushed whispers by the open door, sunlight pouring into the candlelit hall. A young monk was lighting votive candles on a large rack. Outside there was the faint laughter of children and the bustle of the marketplace.

Carol had a particular fondness for this church. It was small but finely decorated with sculptures, paintings and tapestries. Beautiful stone archways lined the ends of the pews, angels and saints carved into them. The church sat on the bank of one of the many canals that ran through the city, the shadows of small boats occasionally passing by the mosaic windows. It was a pleasant place to be, quiet and peaceful.

Someone gasped, drawing Carol's attention away from the sound of prayers. The monk who had been lighting candles was looking at the rack in bewildered shock. Every candle that he had spent twenty minutes lighting had blown out. He huffed in annoyance and began lighting them again. When he finished one row they blew out once more. The monk blinked, looking around in confusion. He tried to light them again, a determined scowl on his face. This time he couldn't even light one.

After six more attempts, Carol suspected foul play. There was no shortage of mischievous demons who liked playing pranks, but a familiar fragrance of wood, earth and ash told her it wasn't any of them. She couldn't help but smile, shaking her head.

"Must be a slow day if you're resorting to picking on a poor monk," Carol mused, glancing over her shoulder through the gap between her wings.

Yon-Rogg was there, leaning against the altar, his dark wings folded behind him.

It had not been long since she had last seen him, only a week. Ever since their encounter on the Atlantic ocean, the two had grown closer, spending much time together. Carol would dare say she considered him a friend. Sometimes they would go flying together, other times he would accompany her as she performed her daily tasks. He had even helped her several times with aiding humans who needed supernatural assistance, something he never judged her for as other demons and angels would. Carol looked forward to seeing him, she enjoyed his company, his banter, and how he tried so hard to hide his amusement around her. She made it her mission to make him smile as much as possible. With him, she felt less alone. It was like she had an ally who understood her, someone who believed in the things that she did. Her insistent rule-breaking had left her a lone wolf in the heavens, most angels shunning or politely avoiding her. Yon-Rogg supported her in her subtle rebellion, encouraging her often.

"You're going to have to tell me how you keep finding me," Carol said, watching him as he sat down on the stair beside her. "Until then all games of hide and seek are off."

"Usually, I just follow the sounds of explosions and general chaos. More often than not you're at the heart of it."

Carol swatted his arm playfully. He smirked smugly.

A clicking noise echoed down the church. An old man was slowly making his way down to the alter, his cane tapping off the marble floors. He was dressed in peasant garbs of dark green, his wooden cane darkened with age and riddled with cuts and marks. The hair sticking out from his cap was a dull grey and curled down to the base of his neck. He knelt before the altar, his movements shaky and strained. He placed his cane down and began to pray, his hands clasped close to his heart. Carol closed her eyes, hearing his words as though he spoke them aloud. His voice was gruff and sombre, every word he said spoken like a plea.

"What did he ask for?" Yon-Rogg asked.

"You know prayers are private," Carol cracked open an eye, giving him a scolding look.

"And you've always been one to follow the rules," Yon-Rogg replied dryly. "Can I try and guess?"

"Go for it."

"I'd say it's either health or wealth-related."

Carol snorted. Even demons knew those were the most popular of prayers and it was of little wonder why. Poverty and disease were two of the worlds greatest sufferings and when the heavens denied relief from them humans often fell prey to demons who promised to save them from their plights. At a cost, of course.

"Close but no," Carol drawled.

"Then what it is?"

"He's praying for his daughter. He knows he's going to die soon and wants someone to watch over her," Carol said softly, smiling faintly. "And his dog."

"Will you?" Yon-Rogg asked.

Carol nodded, giving the old man a pitying look. "Soon."

* * *

By sunset, everyone had left the church. Carol had listened to their prayers, Yon-Rogg patiently sitting with her, content to be her in presence as she was his. The poor monk that Yon-Rogg had been tormenting finally blew out the last candle with a wary glower, plunging the hall into darkness. They were alone now. Moonlight shone through the mosaic window above the altar, a kaleidoscope of colours shining on the floor. Carol opened her eyes, struck by how ethereal Yon-Rogg looked in the colourful lights - he could easily be mistaken for an angel, he was as beautiful as any of them.

"There's something I have to tell you," Yon-Rogg said quietly, unable to look at her. There was hesitation in his voice and Carol could already tell he bore bad news.

"Oh dear, are you breaking up with me?" Carol joked.

Yon-Rogg clasped his hands and lowered his head. He sighed deeply. It almost looked like he was in prayer. He lifted his head to look at her, eyes filled with regret.

"I have a bit of a confession to make," he said, smiling lightly despite the sadness in his eyes. "I'm not going to be able to see you for quite some time."

Carol tensed, disappointment settling over her like a dark cloud. "How long is a long time?"

"A century."

"Why?" Carol exclaimed, her wings ruffling.

"There are some dark angel affairs that need to be addressed and can't wait any longer," Yon explained. He looked at her wistfully. "I wanted to see you before I left."

Carol felt her heart flutter at his confession, then grow wary as she pondered over what kind of affairs a dark angel had to deal with.

"I suppose those affairs will remain a secret?"

"Yes."

"How boring," Carol teased.

She didn't show it, but the comfort she felt dimmed, reality cold and harsh washing over her like an icy tide. She had been enjoying their time together so much she had forgotten that they were different, two beings from different worlds, one of light and one of darkness. They had different purposes, purposes that were at odds with each other.

But what had Yon-Rogg or any dark angel did to warrant such sinister thoughts? No one knew what the dark angel's purpose was, no one even knew much of anything about them, only that they existed and that they were powerful. They were classed as demons so naturally creatures of light were wary, but Yon-Rogg had only ever done good things. He had aided the people on the Atlantic ocean, he encouraged her to use her powers to help the humans, and he had spoken passionately of wanting to help the mortals. Maybe the heavens were wrong about the dark angels? Perhaps even demons could be good. Then again, that could just be her own selfish desires talking, wanting to find an answer that wouldn't come between her and Yon-Rogg.

"You should have told me sooner. I could have gotten you a going-away present."

"Seeing you before I go is a gift enough," Yon-Rogg said, eyes shining sincerely. "Walk me out?"

Carol nodded. They left the church side by side, their wings grazing each other. When they opened the doors to the church, a bright whiteness forced them to shield their eyes. Carol gasped in delight. A thin dusting of snow had fallen on the ground and was slowly rising as flurries fell from the grey skies. It made everything look clean and magically. The few people still wandering the street were looking around in amazement, catching the snowflakes in their hands. Carol turned to Yon-Rogg.

"It never snows here," she said, poking him in the chest. "You did this."

"You said once that the snow was your favourite weather," Yon-Rogg said, smiling lightly.

Carol laughed, sticking out her tongue to catch the falling snow. She didn't notice Yon-Rogg watching her fondly. The longing look in his eyes vanished when she glanced towards him. He cleared his throat and offered her his arm.

"Such a gentleman," she teased, slipping her arm around his.

They walked together along the canal, their steps leaving faint indents in the snow. Their clothes, hair and wings quickly became speckled with flurries of white and every so often they had to ruffle their feathers to get it off. It was so cold now they could see their breaths. The canal had begun to freeze over, swirling patterns of ice dancing upon the waters.

"This has to be against the rules?" Carol said. "Making it snow it in places where it shouldn't."

Yon-Rogg shrugged. "Dark angels have different rules and beliefs from angels."

"Such as?"

Yon-Rogg gave her a mock-serious look, one that came across more reluctantly amused. "I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to wriggle information about my kind out of me."

"Is it working?" Carol smiled.

"No."

Carol sighed dramatically. "Always so cryptic."

"Always so curious," Yon fired back. "Maybe one day I'll answer your questions."

"I look forward to it."

They came upon the town square where children were building snowmen and having snowball fights. Adults watched from the sidelines, their cloaks and jackets wrapped tightly around them, excitedly chattering away about the strange weather.

Carol grinned when she noticed two young girls making snow angels a few feet away. She unhooked her arm from Yon's and took a step back. She spread out her wings and looked at them thoughtfully before looking at the untouched patch of snow behind her.

Yon-Rogg caught on to what she was thinking.

"You're going to make a snow angel?" Yon-Rogg laughed. "Really?"

"No," Carol drawled, giving him a mischievous grin. "You are."

She shoved him hard. He fell backwards, landing with a thud in the snow, his wings flaring out. He grunted as he pushed himself up onto his elbow, glaring at her. Carol laughed and clapped her hands, adoring the disgruntled look on his face.

"That looks more like a snow devil than an angel," Carol said.

She was so caught in the moment she didn't notice the vengeful smirk form on his face. Yon-Rogg swung his leg into hers, knocking her off balance. Carol yelped as she fell backwards, the air knocked out of her.

"I hate you," Carol muttered, closing her eyes.

Yon-Rogg laughed. They got up to their feet and dusted off the snow from their clothes. He turned to look at their snow angel patterns, both were messy and unclear.

"I think they could do with some improvement," Yon assessed.

He turned to Carol, noticing the clumps of snow still clinging to her hair. He gestured with two fingers for her to come closer. He ran his hand through her hair, shaking free the remaining snow.

Carol smiled at him, ready to make a cheeky quip about his mother hen tendencies around her. When she saw the tender smile on Yon's face fade, she frowned, looking up to where his gaze had fallen. The crescent moon, hovering just above the buildings to the East.

"I have to leave now," Yon whispered.

Carol smiled sadly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She made a decision then, to be bold and daring, rules be damned. "Before you go, I have something for you."

Yon-Rogg titled his head, curious. Carol moved closer, leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. When she pulled away Yon-Rogg looked starstruck, blinking with wide eyes. She bit her lip, worrying she had overstepped.

"I'm sorry, I thought-"

"No, don't apologise," he reached out, resting a hand on the side of her face. His thumb caressed her cheek, his eyes searching hers. Carol found herself caught in the intensity of his gaze. "Just... let me try this."

He leaned forward, hesitantly covering her lips with his own. It was soft and unsure, both their bodies tense as a wound-up violin string that could snap at any moment. Carol let herself relax, slowly chasing after his lips when he pulled back, her hands moving to his rest on his arms, keeping him close.

She had never kissed anyone, physical affection such as this was, like many things, forbidden. She wasn't quite sure she was doing it right but from Yon's moan and body stepping closer to her, she assumed he liked it regardless. Their wings instinctively arched towards each other like an embrace, hiding the couple within a cocoon of feathers from the falling snow.

When they finally parted for air, Yon-Rogg rested his forehead against hers, his eyes still closed, savouring what had occurred between them.

"Meet me at Notre Dame this day, a century from now," Yon-Rogg whispered against her lips. "I'll be waiting there for you at sunrise."

Carol nodded.

Yon-Rogg took her hand, raising it to his lips. He chastely kissed her knuckles before spreading his wings and vanishing into the night sky.

* * *

A hundred years was a blink of the eye to an angel in the grand scheme of things. But for an angel harbouring a treasonous secret, it felt like an eternity. The closer it came to her reunion date with Yon-Rogg, the more anxious and regretful she became. She never should have kissed him. Never should have let him kiss her like that. Really, she never should have engaged in any friendliness towards him. They were natural enemies. Fratansing with demons could get her a millennium with bound wings in heaven. Consorting with demons... she could lose her wings.

When a century passed, Carol did not go to Notre Dame. She remained in heaven like a coward.

She should have gone. Should have made it clear to Yon-Rogg that they should end what they had before it became something neither of them could control. She owed it to him. He was her friend. But perhaps that was the real reason she was too scared to go... because she knew it was already too late.


	5. Hold Your Horse Romeo

_Hala - Present Day _

The Realm of the Dark Angels was unlike anything Carol had ever seen. It was dark and quiet save for the rumble of thunder and flash of white lightning. Carol could make out vague silhouettes of towering structures around her, hidden by the thick, swirling lavender fogs. The ground was gravelly, littered with rubble and metal wreckage. There was a strong smell of sulphur and decay in the air.

Carol unsheathed her sword from its holster on her back, creeping forward quietly. Besides dark angels, she didn't know what other monsters may be lurking in this world - and just because she couldn't see them, didn't mean they weren't there, watching her.

With her free hand, she dangled a piece of thread with a green crystal tied at the bottom. Now that she was in the same realm as Yon-Rogg, she could fall back on more traditional methods of locating him. A simple scrying crystal should do the trick. The crystal began to spin with a low whistle before pointing North-East. Carol squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and followed the crystal's directions.

The further into Hala she went, the more on edge she became, a terrible dread settling in her heart.

The shadowy structures around her were towers and buildings, massive monuments like nothing on Earth. Yet there were no signs of life anywhere. When she got close enough to them for the fog to part, she found the buildings partially destroyed and left to ruin. She was in a ghost city. A fallen city. She had lived too long and seen too much not to recognised this city for what it was.

It was the end result of a war zone.

Something had happened here - a battle, a war, an attack - that had left what must have been beautiful and powerful city decimated.

There was so little known about Dark Angels they were practically a myth among myths. What enemies could have done this to them? And were they a threat to the heavens and Earthly plains?

Unnoticed by Carol, the crystal dropped lifelessly on the thread.

She was not alone.

* * *

_Ireland - 1775_

Death was unavoidable. Not even the angels could evade it, for they were the guardians of the in-between of life and death. It was their duty to protect humans who had died, helping their spirits find the light and watching over the loved ones that had been left behind. It was a dangerous time for humans, both dead and living. In such vulnerable states, they were easy prey for demons and their temptations. An angels presence was usually enough to ward away those with foul intents, but sadly, not always. And with such strong emotions that Death provoked, it was all too easy for grief to consume them and desire to lure them into the waiting arms of hells offspring.

Most did not want to die.

Most did not want a loved one taken away to the unknown.

And if someone promised they could bring them back... how could anyone resist? No matter the price.

It was for this reason that Carol found herself in a quiet graveyard by the sea, soft wings pressed up against the bark of an old oak with weaning amber leaves. Her soft gaze never left the frail old women kneeling by her late husband's grave - a simple wooden cross dug into the ground with red rosary beads weaved around it. The women wept quietly, her withered frame shaking. Carol wished she could tell her that she was not alone, that her husband stood beside her, unseen and untouchable, a floating spectre of glimmering blue.

"Will she be okay?" the woman's husband asked, his voice gravelly and strained. Tears glistened in his eyes yet did not fall.

"She will," Carol assured him. "It'll take time, Marcus."

"I wish I could let her know I'm alright."

Carol pushed herself away from the tree. Tentatively, she placed her hand on the women's shoulder were her husband had touched. The women gasped, her hand rising to her shoulder. She could not see Carol, but her touch could be felt like a phantoms caress. The old women smiled, her eyes closing as though to savour the feeling. She thought it was her husband, letting her know that he was still with her, watching over her.

"Watch over her for me, will you?"

Carol nodded. "I will."

A biting wind made the old women shiver. Carol shuddered too, not from the wind, but something it carried with it. Hints of an aura, dark and powerful and _close_. Carol instantly flared out her wings, standing protectively in front of the couple. Startled, Marcus looked around for what had set the angel on edge. He could not sence the presence of evil as she could.

"What is it? What's wrong, Angel?"

Carol scanned the treelines and gravestones, body tensed for an attack. There were other ghosts floating between the graves - lost souls who clung to mortal soils, unfinished business their suffocating tether - but they paid her no mind, bar a few curious glances. These spirits held no ill intent towards her or the couple. Besides them, she couldn't detect any other entities. After a few moments, she breathed a little easier, her shoulders and wings relaxing. Whatever darkness she had sensed was gone.

"It's nothing," Carol whispered. She gave him an assuring smile.

"Has it something to do with that light?"

A patch of golden light had broken through the clouds and was shining down on the man's grave, warming his wife in its radiance.

"No," Carol said softly. "That means it's time for you to move on. You have people up there waiting for you. Your parents. Your brother. Your old friend Jacob."

The man gazed at the light in awe, walking towards it as though in a trance, unable to resist its comforting glow. He spared a final glance to his wife then walked towards into the light, vanishing from sight. The clouds closed, shading the graveyard in greyness.

It wasn't long after that the man's wife left the graveyard, Carol following her to make sure she got home safely. As she left, she didn't notice the grey feather fluttering from above, landing on the husband's tombstone.

* * *

Carol was already in a _fantastic_ mood when she entered the forest, having just come from a divine lecture on spending too much time with one human._You favour that human far too much. __Take heed when making promises you can't keep. __How many warnings must we give of getting to close to humans, Carol? There are rules for a reason and you must-_

Carol snarled, shoving branches out of her way.

Now here she was, up to her knees in sludgy mud with leaves, twigs and filth clinging to her clothes. She was feeling absolutely _spectacular_! She could not think of a better way to spend her evening than hunting down a glorified fleabag. She was glad she had decided to wear a less flowy gown, dawning trousers, a short chemise with a decorative bodice fastened over it - all white, naturally, least she get a scolding for that too.

"Here Goose! Come on girl! I have some tasty fish for you to eat if you come out!" Carol called.

The damn cat - Gwendolyn's only companion and a gift from her late husband Marcus- had been missing for the past week. Her distress had been so strong it had called out to Carol from across the heavens, demanding to be heard. The woman's usually bright and cheerful aura - the colours of golden sunlight at the crack of dawn - had dulled to the grief-stricken grey of a raincloud. It had left Carol with little choice but to find the blasted creature. She had promised to look out for Gwendolyn after all. And if that meant sacrificing her dignity and scavaging every forest in Ireland, so be it. Her elders would have a fit if they knew an angel had lowered herself to hunting down lost pets.

"Goose! Come on! Here kitty kitty!" Under her breath, Carol muttered. "You are so getting a bath and your nails clipped and everything else that cats hate when I get my hands on you!"

Goosebumps crept over Carol's arms. She halted, watching as her breath left her in a cold puff and a cold wind stirred the trees. She could feel another presence, cold and ominous and dark, gliding wards her.

Death was nearby.

She saw it then, the agent of Death, hopping along the tree branches, creeping among the shrubbery. A Grim Reaper. And it was heading to a ginger feline grooming itself at the base of a gnarly trunk.

"Goose!" Carol shouted, darting forward. She threw herself in front of the cat, arms and wings spread wide.

The grim reaper halted, hissing at her lowly, its body pressed low to the ground ready to strike.

_You're looking a little grim_, was on the tip of Carol's tongue, but she doubted the Reaper would appreciate her sense of humour. Reapers were a tough crowd to crack a joke around, especially Reaper Kitties.

The skeletal cat wore robes of black smoke, it's tail ending in a glistening silver scythe. Its hood was pulled over its skull, two skeletal ears poking out through two holes. The most unnerving feature was the eye sockets, black vortexes of sparkling darkness. They weren't known to be the nicest or easiest of creatures to deal with and had little patience for those would interfere with their task.

"You're not here for Goose, are you?" Carol asked, biting her lip nervously.

The cat's tail swished behind it and it nodded its head.

_Damn,_ Carol thought, blowing a strand of hair from her face. _Just what I need. _

"You can't have her, not yet. There's an elderly woman that needs her!"

The reaper cat growled.

"One more year."

A hiss was the only reply.

"Oh, please," Carol drawled. "Like you haven't done stuff like his before."

Another hiss, this time accompanied by a swipe of a claw.

Carol frowned, quickly calculating how long she would be grounded to the heavens for punting a reaper kitty off a cliff. Carol loved cats, but reaper cats were the exception. She doubted there was a being alive or dead that did like them.

"Mrs McFlerkin just lost her husband. Goose is her only companion. You can't take her away!" Carol reasoned.

The reaper cat yawned, unmoved by her plea.

"Look at her!" Changing tactic, Carol pointed to the ginger cat grooming itself. "That cat has at least another year."

As if to prove a point that was most certainly not in Carol's favour, the cat began coughing violently. Carol glared at Goose.

_Unhelpful fleabag. _

"You are not helping," Carol hissed.

The Reaper Kitty meowed irritably.

"What do you mean she used up all her nine lives? She's only what, five?"

The Reaper Kitty shrugged it's shoulder and meowed.

"She's not a very smart cat, huh?" Carol ran a hand down her face. She couldn't let the reaper kitty take Goose's soul. She had promised Marcus tha she would take care of his wife and his wife needed this wretched cat! "How about a trade? Another year for a bag of catnip?"

The Raper Kitty hissed, offended.

"Two bags?"

With an annoyed flick of its tail, the skeletal cat crept towards Goose.

"What will it cost?" Carol shouted desperately.

The Reaper Kitty looked over its shoulder at her. It meowed a little too quickly, as though it had known she would ask and had already thought of an answer.

"You want a feather?" Carol shook her head, her wings retracting inwards. "Are you serious? That's like me asking for one of your bones!"

The feathers of angels were precious. No angel parted with them willingly. They were their pride and joy and contained great amounts of power that in the wrong hands could cause trouble. They were a power source, a piece of divinity that had to be protected. They were priceless. They were precious. They were _hers _\- and there were so few things she had that were her own in this world.

_And I'm about to give one up for a stupid cat that's gonna get itself killed... why does a Reaper cat want with an angel's feather anyway? _

"Fine. One," Carol gritted out. "That cat better live to be a hundred!"

The Reaper Kitty purred and rubbed itself against her legs. Carol rolled her eyes, plucking a feather from her wings with a slight wince. She looked at it longingly before biting her lip and passing it to the cat with great reluctance. The Reaper Kitty jumped up to her leg and took it in its mouth. Carol watched the cat vanish in a puff of smoke.

Goose meowed, stretching its paws out and dozing off.

"You," Carol drawled, picking up Goose and holding him close to her face. "Are one lucky kitty."

"That's cheating."

She should have known he would find her eventually. He always did. _And I was doing so well_, Carol mused miserably. She had avoided him for decades, leaving upon the slightest hint of his presence. A flutter of blue in the distance, a flash of golden eyes in the crowd, the chilling aura of a dark angels approach (one that she knew too well) that left you momentarily breathless and skin tingling with unease. She had stayed in heaven more often than not, keeping her time on Earth to a minimum. Every time she had left the pearly gates she had been jittery, just waiting for the moment he would make himself known.

So many precautions, so much anxiety, and what a load of good it had done her.

"Preemptive strike is not cheating, it's called being smart," Carol replied tartly.

"And avoiding your friend for two decades, what do you call that?" Yon-Rogg spoke casually but she could hear the heat in his voice, the silent fury and hurt. "Where I'm from, we call that abandonment. Betrayal. _Cowardice_. All things I never would associate with you."

Carol closed her eyes, each accusation a stab to her heart. She wasn't proud of what she had done, but what choice did she have?

"You didn't come." There was a crunch of leaves as Yon-Rogg took a step closer.

"No I didn't," Carol replied softly, still refusing to look at him.

"Are you going to tell me why?"

"You know why."

Carol clutched Goose close to her chest and headed to the edge of the forest, towards Mrs McFlerkin's house.

"Are you really just going to walk away from me?"

Carol ignored him.

"And ignore me?"

She walked on.

"You stood me up. Avoided me. And now you won't explain yourself?"

_Keep walking, ignore him,_ Carol thought determinedly. Goose meowed in annoyance as she squeezed him too tightly.

Yon-Rogg changed tactic.

"Hardly befitting behaviour of an angel of your age or do angels maturity deteriorate once they've reached their thousand-year?"

"Six hundred and twenty-seven," Carol muttered on reflex. She narrowed her eyes, cursing under her breath at having responded.

"Well, that explains the surly demeanour doesn't it."

Carol ground her heels into the ground and whirled around to face him. Her heart ached, finally seeing him after one-hundred and twenty-three years. Golden eyes, dark blue wings, and sandy-brown hair that curled around his ears. He was dressed much like the first time she had met him, with a long dark coat, poets shirt and breeches. Still as irksomely handsome too, Carol couldn't help but notice with a grouch. He looked pristine and perfect as always.

It was then with a flush of red cheeks that Carol remembered her own state of disarray. Messy twig filled hair. Muddied and torn clothes. Clumps of leaves sticking to her skin. And a ginger feline in serious need of a bath and brush nestled in her arms.

Why did this always happen? What kind of sick joke did the fates think they were playing at? Of all the people to catch her in her most embarrassing moments, why was it always him?

Carol wanted nothing more than to shrivel up and die.

"I shouldn't have to explain this to you," Carol said, struggling to keep her voice steady. "I'm an angel. You're a demon. We cannot be friends... or anything else. It's forbidden."

"Since when have you cared for the rules-"

"I don't want to lose my wings!" Carol shouted. The abruptness startled Yon-Rogg and some nearby birds who took off from the trees. Goose's ears bent downwards, his eyes widening. "I _need_ them. I need them and my powers so I can help people. Without them..."

Carol trailed off as she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. If she was found befriending or heaven forbid consorting with a demon, her elders would not think twice about snipping her wings. Without her wings she would be cast from the heavens, her home. She would lose her powers, her greatest means of protecting and helping the humans; her reason for existing and greatest desire. Being anything amicable with Yon-Rogg threatened everything. She would lose all that she had. It was too much. Too much.

"They're a part of me," Carol murdered. "I don't want to lose that. Without my wings and my powers, I'm nothing."

Yon-Rogg's face softened. Tentatively, he approached her, reading out and


End file.
